Restorative Life

“Life begins at the end of your comfort zone.” — Neale Donald Walsch

In college, one of my best friends was studying for a fashion degree. During our final semester, in the spring of 1997, she suggested I join her in a millinery class to learn hat making. I’d done a little sewing — I knew my way around a sewing machine, could replace a button, fix a seam. As a lover of fashion, and having been constantly intrigued by her classes over the previous four years (so different to my own), it seemed like the perfect ending to my college years — fun and a bit frivolous. How hard could it be?

Turns out that admiring hats is very different from making them — it was, in fact, the opposite of fun or frivolous. No matter how many notes I took, questions I asked, or help I requested, a huge disconnect occurred between what I dreamt up and what I watched my hands form. Somehow I made it through eight weeks, and, mostly due to my friend’s intervention with needle and thread, eked out a passing grade.

But of all my college classes, I might remember FASH405 the fondest. It remains one of the most excruciating but beneficial courses I’ve ever taken, because it reinforced lessons more important to me than bespoke hat making:

• humility;
• how to laugh at myself;
• the world didn’t end because I wasn’t perfect at everything I set my hand to.

We are naturally drawn to things we are good at and enjoy. But while playing to our strengths may be comforting, it’s also one-sided. Focusing on new tasks — in particular, ones we’re not at ease with or good at — can be the ones that accelerate true growth for adults. And the lessons learned may be far removed from the original skill we set out to master.

Hobbies are a perfect way to let go of the stress of our day-to-day lives, free of the “must dos” of work, parenting, chores, or other responsibilities. They, like any new challenge, literally rewire new pathways in our brains — making us more intelligent overall. Yes, even a C- in millinery helped make me smarter. The same can be true of picking up a guitar, even if you’ll never be inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame; or taking acting classes, even if the only Academy Award speech you’ll ever give is in front of your bathroom mirror. We reap the rewards of pursuing a hobby — relaxation, being present, finding flow, adding enthusiasm and zest to our regular lives — whether we’re good at it or not.

It’s really about relishing the journey more than the destination and letting go of the maxim that satisfaction depends upon perfection or even monetization. I’ve practiced yoga for more than 20 years but still can’t get both feet off the ground in crow, nor execute a headstand. I love to craft but no one who’s seen my projects has ever wanted to buy them off me. But I enjoy both hobbies immensely and can’t imagine my life without them. They help me find balance and express myself creatively. I may be “bad at them,” but they still feel pretty good, and, crucially, I’m still learning and progressing bit by bit. 

Willingness to do something poorly also allows me to sympathize with others who struggle with what comes naturally to me. In that same hat-making class, I helped another senior write a description of her final project. She looked at me the same way I’d looked at her whipstitch her velvet beret — like I had mysterious powers. I try to remember that lesson and practice patience with others, remembering that what I find easy — whether that’s baking a cake or playing air hockey — is, in fact, not easy for everyone. We are all blessed with different gifts. By spending time outside our comfort zone, we encounter many different types of talents to admire and even emulate.  

I’ve never returned to hat making, but I held on to my favorite — a straw bucket-style. Over several classes, I’d wet and softened the straw until it became pliable. I stretched it over the wooden hat block, then, when dry and formed, sewed a wide black ribbon around the crown. I carefully stitched in the slim hat band, and, at last, took it up to the professor for grading. I felt sure that finally, in the last week of the semester, I’d made a masterpiece.

The kind but bemused instructor was less convinced. I’d located the straw’s seam front and center, not around back where it should have been. I’d not used the proper stitch on the hat band, and had left a gap between the ribbon on the outside. In her eyes, this English major had failed, again, to grasp basic millinery tenants. 

But in my opinion, that straw bucket is my magnum opus. Unlike every other hat I made that semester, this one matches exactly the picture I had in my head. I love wearing it. I love telling people I made it. Most don’t notice the wonky seams or lack of precision, they just want to know more about what it’s like to make a hat from scratch.

I’ll probably never be a professional milliner or yogi, nor sell my crafts on Etsy. But I hope I’m a wiser, more sympathetic, more clear-eyed adult who can laugh at herself, keep trying new things, and more importantly, enjoy the ride.

I’d call that success.

by Stefin Kohn, Contributing Writer

Resources – 

• Elizabeth Day is the reigning doyenne of failure. On her podcast, and book of the same name, How to Fail, she talks to both famous and “ordinary” people about what their failures have taught them. Her follow-up book, Failosophy, was published in October 2020.
• Dr Barbara Frederickson is a towering figure in the world of positive psychology. Listen to her talk about why prioritizing connection over achievement leads to better health and happiness on Episode 341 of the Ten Percent Happier podcast.
• Still searching for something to fail at? A simple Wikipedia search for “hobbies” renders an incredible wealth of options: From watch repair to embroidery, metal detecting to calligraphy, they’re in alphabetical order and category (outdoor, indoor, sports, educational, etc.). There’s literally something for everyone, and probably a few you’ve never heard of. (Gongoozling anyone?) You’re bound to be bad at one of them. 

“All my life through, the new sights of Nature made me rejoice like a child.” —Marie Curie

During England’s first lockdown in the spring of 2020, I took refuge in a wooded section of a park not far from my home for my daily, government-allowed exercise. Crisscrossing the extensive trails over several weeks, I watched hyacinth bulbs emerge from the ground, inch by inch, and burst into their heavenly scented, ruffled flower. As if in my own personal stop-motion film, I saw leaves unfurl from the trees above, bracingly green and brand new. I kept an eye on a mama duck perched on her nest near a small pond — rejoicing as she, one day, was joined by a brood of fluffy ducklings. Observing the natural world continue its uninterrupted march into springtime and rebirth, even as my life had seemingly ground to a halt, filled me with a deep sense of peace and perspective. 

Though I didn’t know it at the time, I was, in fact, practicing the Japanese art of shinrin-yoku, or forest bathing.

In the 1980s, looking for a way to combat burnout amongst young workers, as well protect national forests, researchers in Japan found that time in nature lowered blood pressure, blood sugar, and cortisol (the “fight or flight” hormone), and increased focus, relaxation and concentration. Thus, shinrin (forest) yoku (bath) — forest bathing — was born. It’s proved such a success that it is now part of the national health program in Japan, and has been adopted by people all over the world. The simple practice of experiencing a forest — or any natural habitat — with all senses has profound physical and psychological benefits for the mind and body.

But what does it mean to bathe in a forest, and, more importantly, why should you?

To begin with, it may be helpful to point out what shinrin-yoku is not. It’s not exercise — at least not in the “feel the burn” definition. Your hike, walk, or jog is not the primary focus of the practice, though you will undoubtedly rack up points on your step counter. But rather than focusing on mileage, or heart rate, shinrin-yoku asks that you wander rather aimlessly — guided by your five senses: the sights, sounds, smells, and even things you are able to touch and taste along the way. You have no destination, nowhere to be, except exactly where you are. Savoring your time in nature with all of the senses available to you is the entire point. It’s an immersive experience to connect you with the natural world. 

Experts say that a two-hour session is ideal to reap the full benefits of shinrin-yoku, but any amount of time will pay dividends in lower heart rate and blood pressure, increased relaxation, and crucially for many of us, time away from technology. Indeed, it may be easier for beginners to start with small chunks of time and build up to a full two hours.

I soon noticed that my walks in the woods afford me more solace than walks I took on city streets, even as empty as they were of the usual hustle and rush of “normal” London. That may well have been down to the oxygen rich atmosphere I was walking in amongst the trees. But it was also likely due to the aromatic compounds released by plants called phytoncides. These chemicals help trees fight off invaders like bacteria, fungi and harmful insects, and, when breathed in by humans, become important infection and inflammation fighters. Some researchers believe these powerful immune-system supporters can aid healing and even increase happiness. 

Additionally, nature, in all its every-changing glory, provides a distraction that helps combat anxiety and depression. In pandemic times especially, it’s easy to get caught in a never-ending cycle of rumination, worry, and speculation. Shinrin-yoku frees up the mind for creativity and provides a link to something bigger than ourselves, allowing us to see how we slot into a larger picture.  

Technically, and fortunately for those without ready access to green space, you don’t necessarily need to practice shinrin-yoku in a forest. You can take advantage of any natural environment — even your back patio — as long as you apply the principles of mindfulness: Slow down, turn off your tech, take big, deep, belly breaths, and notice how the outdoors makes you feel.

How to accomplish this? Be mindful. Listen: to birdsong, to the wind in the trees, to the scampering clatter of a squirrel’s tiny feet. See: the changing beauty of the natural world, the bright green awakening and blossom of spring, the lush exuberance of summer, the fiery blast of autumn, the naked sparkle of winter. Smell: the damp dirt, the tang and rot of the carpet of leaves, the freshness of the air after a rainstorm. Feel: the heaviness of the humidity in the air, the ground beneath your feet, the rough bark of a tree, the soft moss on a fallen log. Taste: the raindrops on your tongue, a sip from a clear stream (or, more realistically perhaps, a refreshing drink from your water bottle).

By tuning in to your five senses, you can expand what advocates of forest bathing call your sixth sense — a state of mind that encompasses equanimity, relaxation and joyful communion with nature. Twelve months and many miles later, as England emerges from another long national lockdown, I watch the magic of new life unfolding once again this spring. During a tumultuous and unsettling year, shinrin-yoku helped bring me back to myself, one step at a time. 

Want to explore more?

• There are many books exploring shinrin-yoku in more detail. Dr Qing Li, an immunologist at Tokyo Medical School, is a well-respected physician and president of the Japanese Society of Forest Bathing. He authored Shinrin-Yoku: The Art and Science of Forest Bathing.
• In the UK, both the National Trust and Forestry England have thoughtful web pages devoted to forest bathing. The National Trust’s site includes a list of forests; Forestry England has 360-degree virtual forest tours for those unable to access green space in person.
• Japan Travel has an extensive list of national forests in which to practice shinrin-yoku in the country it was conceived.
• In the US, the Forest Service as well as many individual state websites, list forests to bathe in, from the Allegheny National Forest in Pennsylvania to the Olympic National Forest in Washington State.

By Stefin Kohn, Contributing Writer

“I have no special talent. I am only passionately curious.” — Albert Einstein

Among the 2016 graduating class at South New Hampshire University, one student stood out. It wasn’t because of her perfect 4.0 GPA or the fact she was distance learning from Hawaii, nearly 5,000 miles away from SNHU’s campus. It was a few other numbers that made many sit up and take notice. After 54 years away from college courses, 94 year old Amy Craton graduated with her bachelor’s degree in creative writing and English, making her the University’s oldest graduate. She had stepped away from college in midlife to raise four children, but decided she had more to learn, and, more importantly, that it wasn’t too late. 

“It feels good to graduate, but in many ways I feel I am still on the road; I have more to learn” she told her alma matter. “If you’re thinking about going back to school, do it. You’ll open up a whole new life.” A poet with a special fondness for haiku, Amy hopes her degree will help her realize another dream — publishing a children’s book.

Not all of us are nonagenarian undergrads, but we can still benefit from the significant upticks in health, happiness, quality of life and general satisfaction to be had from learning something new in adulthood. Turns out, following Dale Carnegie’s advice “to be interesting, be interested” can keep your brain and body limber, introduce you to new people and ideas, broaden your worldview and introduce some good, old-fashioned fun. Crucially, it can also expand confidence which can take a hit once we’re no longer full-time workers or parents. 

Picking up a new skill as an adult can challenge ideas and preconceptions about who you are and who you can be. True, you may take continuing education courses as part of your job, and by adulthood, most people have taught themselves how to manage their household and finances. In many ways people continue to learn professionally and practically to grow (or change) their careers or make their lives run more smoothly. But these types of pursuits often fall under the category of “training” or “must dos.”

What about learning for the joy of learning?

Amy’s story illustrates one pathway to that joy — organized, academic, and with a clear end point. Indeed, adult student enrollment at the university level has continued to grow, year over year, since 2008. And for good reason: Adults often bring a focus, determination and a general willingness to put in the effort, along with a sense of purpose and sense of self that many younger students may not. Flubbing the correct pronunciation in your French class may not be a barrel of laughs for anyone, but you’re likely to care less about embarrassing yourself at 56 than you were at 16.

Adults can be free to indulge in their curiosity and passion. Love to paint? Curious about ceramics? Intrigued by the life of a private investigator, medic, garden designer, voice-over actor or (fill in the blank)? A variety of short-term classes can give you a taster without the time or expense inherent in a degree program.

Many adults regret not having learned a foreign language or musical instrument as children. It’s generally accepted that both of these pursuits are trickier to pick up later in life. But that doesn’t mean they’re impossible, and you’ll have something younger students don’t — real-life experience that can help you master all kinds of new tasks. My mom started playing the piano at 63 and, while occasionally frustrated with the difficulty, it gives her a great sense of satisfaction as a music lover. Plus, she has a lot of time to practice, something she definitely didn’t have while she was working full time and bringing up two kids.

And remember that not all learning is academic or requires lessons. Many adults take up a new sport. Though you’ll probably never dance with the Bolshoi if you start when you’re past the average retirement age of a prima ballerina, adults who try running, cycling (including BMX and road racing!), power- and bodybuilding regularly find success in all age groups. Runners, especially, can set records well into their golden years. The benefits of staying active, and setting goals, are enormous. Staying (or getting) in shape keeps the brain pliable and helps the release of important hormones that keep connections fresh and promote the growth of new synapses.

As a longtime advocate of mindfulness meditation (and my mother’s daughter), I practice one of the cornerstone tenants in my daily life: STAY CURIOUS. I taught myself audio recording and editing software when I hosted my podcast Preheated. I took up running in my early 30s and ran four half marathons as well as lots of shorter races over the next decade, before I took up tennis for the first time at 44. I have lots of other fascinations, too, from Second World War history to astronomy, quilting to jam making. While all of these interests may have felt overwhelming and scattered as a young person, they now feel expansive and unlimited. Who do I want to be today, and what do I want to learn?

Maybe I should take a page from Amy Craton. She’s currently studying for her master’s.

Want to indulge your curiosity?

• Massive Open Online Courses: These online courses are available for anyone to enroll, and cover an incredible range of subjects from Shakespeare to structural engineering. Dabble in a variety or complete a master’s degree. MOOC partners with top universities all over the world, from Purdue to The University of Queensland.
• London-based City Lit has an extensive array of evening, daytime and weekend courses, lectures, workshops and talks. Learn in person, or chose from thousands of their online offerings, covering everything from acting to anthropology. Taster courses start at just £10.
• Your local community center, university or community college may offer courses for “mature learners.” Love it? Great! Not for you? No problem. You’re an adult and you get to decide. One of the most satisfying moments of my adult life was walking out of a knitting class when it became abundantly clear I was hopeless (more on that later this month).
• Alternatively, in our Zoom era, the world has shrunk — you can learn to make donuts with a pastry chef in London even if you live in Milwaukee. Consider expanding your class searches outside of your geographic area. (And consider the courses at Bread Ahead — they’re fantastic.)
• Don’t forget volunteering! It can be the perfect opportunity to expand your worldview, change your perspective, and meet people from different walks of life — all very important aspects of learning.

by Stefin Kohn, Contributing Writer